


Phantom Fire

by ThirstySpiders



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Faerie AU, KRKR Fanzine, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 19:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirstySpiders/pseuds/ThirstySpiders
Summary: Faeries stole something precious from Kurapika. Nothing will dissuade him from getting it back.





	Phantom Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission for the excellent KRKR Charity Fanzine. It came out over a year ago and was full of art and fics from a bunch of great artists and writers. The fanzine has long-since ended but I have been really slow about posting up my submission.
> 
> This was written as a one-shot, but I may add more if there is interest. Enjoy!

The fire cracked, sending bright sparks floating up into the darkness before being swallowed by growing shade. The sun’s light still  glowed from the western hills, but night came more quickly here at the edge of the darkened wood. Kurapika pulled his cloak more tightly around his body, briefly mourning the loss of the inn he had stayed at the night before and the provided comfort of a warm hearth and comfortable bed. The fire warmed his face and chest too much, but left his back increasingly cold as the orange of sunset transitioned into a starry night. The moon was hardly a sliver in the sky, leaving everything beyond the ring of light impenetrable to Kurapika’s grey eyes. 

Kurapika sighed audibly and pushed his blond hair back behind his ear, the firelight catching the glow of the red jewel that hung at his ear and making it sparkle. He stood to grab another piece of wood and toss it on the pile. The fire cracked appreciatively as he settled back down on the log he had pulled up as a bench. He watched the fire, ignoring the unsettling urge to raise his eyes towards the wood. Instead, he briefly considered heating up something warm to drink, but that brought thoughts back to the wood. He did not want to risk a walk to the river. Even though it was just beyond the treeline, the thought of entering the wood... terrified him. Especially on this night. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the snap of a branch, just beyond the circle of light. Kurapika reacted immediately, rising to his feet and drawing two wooden bokken in a single movement. “Show yourself,” he ordered into the darkness, his voice steady with more confidence than he felt. A minute passed. Then two more. As Kurapika began to doubt that he had heard anything more than his own nerves, a figure stepped into the glow of the firelight. Kurapika kept his weapon raised as the man came into view. He was youthful with black hair that sat shaggy on his head and hung slightly in front of his dark eyes. His clothing was uneventful—doeskin breeches and heavily worn walking boots peeked out of the bottom of a faded woolen tunic. Kurapika ticked his eyes up to the stranger’s head where a strip of bandage was wrapped tightly around. A head injury, perhaps? 

As the man took another step forward, Kurapika crossed his bokken defensively. “Stay right there. Are you a thief?” 

“At times,” the stranger admitted. “Tonight, I am a traveler asking to share your fire.” Even though he was dressed like any of the other men too poor to own a horse that Kurapika had seen on the road, each word was enunciated smoothly and distinctively. 

Kurapika considered for a moment, looking over the man, before nodding and taking a step backward to sit on the log. “I won’t be here much longer, anyway.” 

The stranger lowered his hands and sat down cross-legged in front of the fire. “Traveling at night?” he asked. “Kuroro, by the way.” 

“No, I’m going into the forest soon,” Kurapika said, using a stick to turn over one of the burning logs. 

Kuroro’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “In there?” He tilted his head to the side, gesturing at the trees behind him. “You must not be from around here.” 

“On the contrary,” Kurapika said, gripping the edge of his cloak and tossing it over his shoulder. Beneath the plain brown cloak, he wore a bright jerkin in blue and gold, the curling pattern embroidered on the cloth distinctive in its design. 

“Ah, a Kurta. You’re just from over the hills then.” 

“You’ve been there?” 

“No, but I’ve been around here a while,” he shrugged, eyes watching the fire. “Then I must assume you’ve lost your calendar. Tonight is—” 

“I know what tonight is,” Kurapika interrupted. “It’s the winter solstice.” 

Kuroro nodded. “And you’ve heard the stories about this place then?” 

Kurapika was silent for a few moments, the snaps of the fire the only sound. “If you pass me that kettle,” he said finally, “I’ll make some tea.” 

Kuroro looked to the cast iron kettle that sat between them. “No, I don’t think I care for tea.” 

“I do,” Kurapika said, rising to his feet and picking up the kettle himself. He picked up his waterskin from the ground. It had enough inside to make a few cups without venturing to the river just yet. He emptied it into a pot and set the kettle directly in the fire, twisting it to make an indent in the fire-eaten logs. A flurry of sparks briefly flared up. Kurapika sat back down, this time in front of the log so his back could rest against the wood. 

He looked up at Kuroro through the licking flames. “What stories have you heard?” he asked. “I know what my people say, but I haven’t had much opportunity to ask elsewhere.” 

“I’m sure it’s similar.” Kuroro shrugged. “These woods are infested with fae, but the solstices are particularly dangerous. It’s on those nights the veil is thin enough that they come out in swarms and steal any human foolish enough to wander in at after dark.” 

“Yes, that’s what my people say too. But why would they do that?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Steal humans. What would be the point?” 

“I’m hardly an expert.” Kuroro brought up a knee and rested his elbow against it, in turn leaning his cheek against his knuckles. “Maybe for the reason anyone collects anything. Pretty stones, patterned feathers... I imagine because they like them.” 

Kurapika made eye contact with him, his expression angry and his grey eyes colored red by the flames. “Humans aren’t stones or feathers. They are not to be collected.” 

“This is just conjecture, my friend. No need to get excited. We’re just two strangers amusing ourselves in the darkness,” Kuroro said, seemingly unconcerned with the sudden wave of hostility radiating from his fireside companion. “Besides, these are just stories. Superstition. People disappear in forests all the time, but I’m more inclined to blame darkness, upturned roots, and hungry animals rather than faeries.” 

Kurapika looked away from Kuroro, anger cooling but still furrowing his brow. “They’re not stories. They’re real.” 

An amused smile touched Kuroro’s lips. “Oh?” 

“I’ve been in here before. When I was a child. I went in on the solstice to see if the stories were true.” 

“And what did you find?” 

“I got lost. Fog everywhere. I thought I would die in that wood, but lights appeared and guided me out of the forest.” 

Kuroro regarded him for a moment. “That is hardly proof of faeries.” 

“But the lights—” 

“Fireflies.” 

“In the middle of winter?” 

He shrugged. “The fog reflected moonlight then.” 

“You’re pulling at strings.” 

“Maybe, but the mind can do strange things to people. Especially to a lost child alone on a cold night,” he said, waving aside Ku rapika’s explanations with the flick of his hand. “Is that why you’re here? To see if the experience you had was true?” 

“No,” he said. “I know it’s true.” 

“Then why go in? You were lucky as a child, now you’re going back in to prove... what? Kurapika, you’ll get turned around without the help of faeries. You didn’t strike me as an idiot.” 

Kurapika looked up at him sharply, opening his mouth as if to say something before closing it again. He picked up his woolen gloves from the ground beside him and slipped them on. “I should get going,” he said. 

“What about your tea?” 

“I’m not thirsty. Enjoy my fire, Kuroro,” Kurapika said, picking up his empty waterskin and attaching it to his belt. He picked up a small punched tin lantern, lighting the candle inside it with a stick from the fire. The lantern had the same curved designs as his jerkin, casting light out of its tiny holes in a comforting pattern. He left the tin door open so it could cast a thin beam of light in front of him as he moved from the safety of the fire and into the trees. He had only walked about twenty paces from the fire when he heard footsteps behind him. 

“Let me go with you,” Kuroro spoke up, falling into step beside him. “And see these faeries of yours.” 

“The ones you doubt exist?” 

“Prove me wrong,” he said, sounding almost cheerful. 

Kurapika was silent as he walked through, carefully stepping over roots and around bushes, the thin beam of candlelight ahead as his only guide. Even the stars were obscured in here. Kurapika was fairly certain he had been moving in a straight line, but could not be sure. Every direction looked exactly the same to his eyes. 

“So why are you so determined to come back?” 

The voice to his right made Kurapika start. He had almost forgotten Kuroro was there. 

Kurapika coughed to cover his nerves and kept his eyes forward. “I told you.” 

“No, you told me why you were here years and years ago. Why now?” he asked curiously. 

“When I first came here I wasn’t alone,” he said. He felt Kuroro’s footsteps come to a halt beside him and stopped walking as well. “My friend Pairo came with me. I was curious and he was brave. When the fog rose we got separated. I came out and he didn’t.” 

“I’m sorry,” Kuroro said. “I didn’t know there were two.” 

“Well, now there is one,” he said, turning towards Kuroro. “Do you know what happened to Pairo?” 

He shook his head. “How would I?” 

“Were you there that night?” he asked, anger rising. Kurapika stepped closer to Kuroro, pushing the lantern in his face. “Did you add Pairo to your ‘collection?’ Was he a pretty stone to you?” 

“Kurapika, what are you saying?” The small light of the candle reflected in Kuroro’s dark eyes. 

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” he accused. “Appearing out of the woods on the winter solstice.” 

“I’m a traveler just like you—” 

“You wouldn’t touch the iron. I asked you to pass me the kettle and you refused. Faeries can’t touch cold iron.” 

He sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. “Now I’m being attacked because I didn’t want tea?” 

“Were you the one who took him? Tell me!” 

“Kurapika, I’m not—” 

“I never told you my name,” he interrupted. 

Kuroro took in a slow breath. “Fine. I may not have been transparent with you, but not for the reasons you think. I followed you here. I heard your name mentioned in town and realized you were Kurta. Kurta goods fetch a high price,” he explained. “That lantern alone would fetch plenty of coin.” 

Kurapika lowered the lantern. “No, you’re a faerie. I’m sure of it.” It sounded poorly construed even to his own ears. 

“What I think is that your friend died in this wood many years ago because of a decision you made... and it is easier to imagine he was spirited away to a distant land than it is to accept the reality that his body long since rotted away.” 

Kurapika jerked as if he had been physically struck. “No, I know the stories are true. When the lights guided me out, there was a person.” 

“What did they look like?” 

“I... don’t remember. I just remember a symbol.” 

“I’ll tell you what. You trade me that lantern and I’ll guide you out of here safely. If your story was true, it means you were touched by the Fae once before, making this even more dangerous for you now.” 

Kurapika sighed, defeated. As he turned away from Kuroro, he noticed for the first time a fog rising slowly up around their feet. He turned the other way quickly, startled as fear came unbidden to his heart. A hand on his wrist grounded him, and he turned to see Kuroro, fog veiling his face. 

“Stop chasing ghosts, Kurapika.” 

“...I...” Kurapika began slowly. Before he could finish his thought, an unexpected sound came from behind him. The laughter of a child. 

He turned quickly, eyes widening. Even in the thickening fog he could make out the diminutive figure in front of him. Brown hair and soft brown eyes. A red jerkin with curling gold embroidery reminiscent of the clothing Kurapika wore. 

“Pairo...” Kurapika said, pulling his wrist from Kuroro’s arm and stepping closer to the figure. The silhouette of what appeared to be Pairo turned and ran into the fog. 

“Pairo!” Kurapika yelled, running after his friend. He could hear Kuroro calling his name, but did not care to stop. 

No matter how hard Kurapika ran through the wood, Pairo seemed just out of reach. He laughed in a familiar way, a sound Kurapika often dreamed about but had not heard in years. He begged his friend to stop to no avail. Still, Kurapika followed. 

Pairo came to an abrupt stop, only his upper body visible in the fog as he turned to face Kurapika. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered  softly, his quiet voice nevertheless cutting through Kurapika’s heart. 

“I have too. I knew... I knew what happened was true. I hoped you would still be here somehow,” he told his friend. “I’m so sorry for leaving without you.” 

Pairo smiled and held out his hand, inviting Kurapika to take it. “Closer. Come here and we’ll leave together.” 

Kurapika took a step forward, reaching his hand outward. 

“Yes, almost. I’ve missed you so much,” Pairo said. “Just a bit closer and we can be together.” 

Kurapika took another step and his foot found air. With a yelp, he tumbled forward. Before he could fall, he felt strong arms wrap around him, pulling him backwards. His dropped his lantern to his feet. The candle fell from the open door and rolled away in the fog and dark, light expunging in the soft ground. 

“I think you’ve proven your point.” 

Kurapika looked up to find himself pressed to Kuroro’s chest. He had no idea how he had managed to track him in this fog. He turned his head to look towards Pairo. Laughter rang out again, but this time it was too high-pitched to be his friend and seemed to come from all around them. The fog and the vision of Pairo faded, revealing the edge of a deep crevice filled with dead trees, branches pointed upwards threateningly. 

Kurapika stepped away from Kuroro and fell to the ground. He wanted to cry, he wanted to rage at the inhuman laughter. “You should have just left me.” 

“Hardly,” Kuroro said, scooping a rock and throwing it in the direction of the laughter. It struck a tree, causing another chorus of giggles. He looked back towards Kurapika and held out his hand. “Come on.” 

Kurapika stared at the hand, still in a daze. Kuroro gripped his wrist and pulled him to his feet. He also scooped up the dropped lantern and handed it Kurapika who numbly took it. The candle was gone and Kurapika had no spare, so it did nothing for the darkness. However, Kuroro was unbothered and moved through the forest as if it were a well-lit street. Kurapika could do little but follow the other man. 

After what felt like hours to Kurapika, but might have just been minutes, Kuroro came to a halt. Kurapika looked past him to see an open field. 

“You brought us out,” he observed, stepping out of the line of trees. Already things felt lighter now that he was safe from the influence of the forest. He began to walk across the field and paused, turning to see Kuroro still standing at the treeline. “Are you coming?” 

He smiled at him. “I cannot.” 

Kurapika turned to face him, stepping closer. “Why not?” 

“Because faeries can’t leave the woods. Even on Midwinter night.” 

Kurapika reached up with one hand to push the bandages on Kuroro’s forehead aside. Marked on the skin, a cross was visible between the frame of his bangs. The symbol stirred memories in Kurapika. “You were the one who guided me out when I was a child.” 

Kuroro nodded. “I didn’t know about your friend. But I can’t promise I would have saved him if I did.” 

“Why me? Why didn’t you... collect me?” 

He paused in contemplation. “I suppose... what you said earlier was correct. Humans are not stones or feathers. If I pick up a stone and place it in my pocket, it is mine. I could even reach into your purse and every coin I take would belong to me. Humans aren’t like that. If I took you and put you in a cage, you wouldn’t belong to me. Humans must give their freedom willingly. I can’t speak for all of my kind, but that is my philosophy on it.” 

“Then why save me?” Kurapika asked. 

Kuroro reached out to push Kurapika’s blond locks from his grey eyes, leaving his hand cupping his cheek. “Because I am still jealous. I am still possessive. If I can’t own you willingly then I’ll protect you from those who would take you by force.” 

His words frightened Kurapika. They were kindly spoken, but now, face to face, Kurapika could see foreign emotion in the faerie’s eyes and wondered how he could have ever thought him to be human. 

Kuroro let go of him after a moment, letting his fingers slide across his skin as he released him. “Go home, Kurapika of the Kurta people. I have saved you twice. If I see you in this wood again, I’ll presume it’s because you want me to take you.” 

Kurapika nodded and took a step backward. 

“Now, I believe we had a deal?” 

“We did?” Kurapika asked cautiously. Kuroro gestured to the empty lantern in Kurapika’s hand. Kurapika lifted it up and handed it to the other man who took it before turning into the wood and disappearing from view. 

Kurapika hovered on the edge of the trees for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Every year, every winter, brought back memories of Pairo. Every midwinter he had tried to gather up the courage to step back, and every winter he had failed. Kurapika knew that if he left now he would never return... leaving Pairo’s fate forever a mystery. He took a breath and stepped back into the wood, running headlong into the darkness. 

He did not know where he was going or what he was doing. Kuroro had advised him to stop chasing ghosts, but in his heart he knew that Pairo was still alive somewhere. He would not give up on this chance. 

As he moved blindly through the darkness, Kurapika began to doubt his direction. Then, piercing through the dark, he could make out a gentle blue light. He recognized it from when he was very young: the faerie lights that had once guided him to safety. 

He came to a small clearing in the woods, not surprised by what he found but terrified all the same. The blue light was coming from his own lantern, so different from candlelight. Holding the lantern was Kuroro, but now he looked more otherworldly. Gone were the commoner clothing from when he had first met him at the campfire. Now, he wore black breeches with bare feet and chest. If the cold of the night bothered him, it did not show, since Kurapika could discern no shivering. On his shoulders, a dark cloak lined in thick white fur rested loosely. His hair no longer fell messily at his forehead, but was instead pushed back to more prominently show the cross marking. His ears were not as sharp as the faeries in the storybooks of his childhood, but they did come to a distinct and unmistakable point. 

“While I thought you might find your way back in here eventually,” Kuroro said, with a smile that did not reach his dark eyes twisting on his features, “I did not expect to see you so soon.” His voice had the same preternatural tinge as the laughter that had nearly guided Kurapika to his death not hours before. 

“Tell me honestly,” Kurapika said, his mouth dry. “Do you know what happened to Pairo? Did he die here? Or did one of your people take him away?” 

Kuroro’s eyes grazed up and down Kurapika, and he had the sudden feeling of ancientness emanating from the creature. It was as though Kurapika was a child asking a question that was foolish for reasons he could not understand. 

“I do not know,” Kuroro said. “Most humans look the same to me. Perhaps you would like to come see for yourself?” 

Kurapika looked to Kuroro’s bare feet and noticed for the first time that he stood in a ring of mushrooms protruding from the frozen ground. That part at least was true to the stories. When he looked back up to meet Kuroro’s eyes, the faerie had extended his hand outward in a way that reminded Kurapika of the phantom Pairo, beckoning him to his doom. 

However, Kurapika had already made his choice the moment he crossed the treeline for the third time in his life. Two steps forward took him to the edge of the circle. Kurapika extended his hand, but hesitated with his hand floating just above Kuroro’s. “You’ll help me find him?” 

“I only promise to bring you to where he might be.” 

Kurapika shut his eyes, resolve steadying the tenseness in his body. He stepped into the ring of mushrooms and took Kuroro’s hand in one movement. Kuroro’s smile seemed to twist as long fingers wrapped around Kurapika’s hand. 

The lantern fell to the dirt with a clang as morning sunlight finally found its way through the trees to shine on the empty ground. Inhuman laughter echoed like bells in the trees above.


End file.
